


Flashback

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [11]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:51:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: None of Scab's memories are good.





	Flashback

Scab had been a menace lately. He terrorized the other lighthouse residents while they worked on their cars, yelled at those who got near and tried to fight anyone who so much as made eye contact with him. Jeet had had enough, stomping down the stairs and scooping Scab up into his arms to go dump him in a storeroom till he cooled off.

Snarling and squirming, Scab tried to wriggle out of his arms, embarrassed to be picked up by his Imperator. Jeet ignored it, shifting his grip on the War Boy and tossing him over his shoulder, arm around his knees to keep him in place. Very abruptly Scab stopped moving, going rigid against Jeet’s back.

Well that was strange, but Jeet didn’t pause, stalking into a storeroom and dumping Scab onto the floor, “You’re gonna stay in here until you can behave yourself. I’m not gonna have you chasing everyone off and bringing down the stronghold. Understand?”

Scab didn’t respond, weirdly frozen in the same position as when he’d hit the floor. He’d started to pant, eyes looking straight ahead and past Jeet’s leg rather than at him.

“Are you even listening to me?” Jeet knelt down to roll him onto his back.

The moment Jeet touched him he exploded, crying out and clawing at what was in front of him. Jeet jumped back, caught by surprise at his reaction, but Scab kept on struggling against something that wasn’t there, still not looking at Jeet, eyes flicking back and forth, unfocused and wide. He was hyperventilating now, unable to catch his breath and even in the few moments that Jeet had touched him he could feel his heart racing so fast it might explode.

Unsure as to why Scab was reacting like that Jeet stumbled away, watching as Scab continued to writhe and lash out. “Scab?”

“I’m not a bloodbag. Not…” Scab swallowed hard, his voice high pitched and wheezy, clearly panicked and terrified. He still wasn’t looking at Jeet, focused on the empty space right in front of him. He backed up into some shelving with enough force to knock several heavy tools down onto himself. But he didn’t react, almost as if he couldn’t feel that his shoulder was now torn open and bleeding. “I’m his champion. Blood can’t flow forever and.. I’m not… no. NO! No no no nononono.”

Cursing, Jeet launched himself at Scab who had almost dragged the whole shelving unit down on top of himself in his haste to get away from … something. Jeet didn’t understand, but Scab was going to hurt himself if he kept this up. Or potentially pass out with the way he was gasping for air. “Scab! Stop. Listen, you’re okay. You’re in the lighthouse. Can you hear me?” He grabbed for Scab’s arm, pulling him away from the shelves and into a more open area where he couldn’t injure himself.

Scab had stopped struggling, but he was still stiff, eyes jerking around in their sockets to look at things that didn’t exist. He was making really uncomfortable whimpering noises, almost on the verge of tears, “Rather be dead. Just end it already.”

Stunned Jeet knelt at his side, wanting to reassure him but not knowing how, he wasn’t even sure Scab could hear him. “You gotta snap out of it Scab.” He was hesitant to touch him and start him flailing again, but he didn’t know what to do to ground him and get him to stop hallucinating or whatever it was he was doing. “It’s Jeet, can you see me? What’s happening? What do I need to do?”

He hated feeling helpless, and this was a situation that in all his years of planning he’d never prepared for. Jeet didn’t know how to comfort Scab or even what to do to get him to acknowledge he was there. Scab had gone silent, just laying on the ground staring at the ceiling, his fingers white knuckled against the ground.

“Scab! C'mon. Look at me.” Jeet crawled over him, trying to get his eyes to focus.

The War Boy’s eyes flicked over to Jeet, back at the ceiling, then to Jeet again. His raspy breathing was now interspersed with gulping sounds as he started to come back to himself.

“Good, good.” Jeet reached out and rested his hand on his chest. “I’m right here. You’re gonna be okay.” He hoped, he wasn’t sure what was even wrong with him right now.

“Wh… What?” Scab started to shake, not understanding where he was or what was going on. Disoriented and scared he inched closer to Jeet.

With a silent sigh of relief Jeet leaned over him, rubbing his side. “Just breathe.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the lighthouse, in a storeroom. Do you remember me carrying you up here?”

Scab shook his head, looking around in obvious confusion. He shakily brought up a hand to press against Jeet’s stomach, it certainly felt like he was really there, but so had everything else he’d just experienced. “Thought I was back in Gastown. In the Organic’s shop. This all….. it looked real. Felt real.”

“It’s not real.” Jeet gathered Scab into his arms, resting him in his lap as he leaned against the wall of the storeroom, just holding him as the War Boy started to calm down. Scab was making some disturbing gasping wheezing noises, and Jeet didn’t want to look at him; didn’t want to see him crying. This was a War Boy, someone brainwashed and devoid of emotions who only existed to die for his Imperator. Seeing him like this was deeply disturbing.

Fingers tightly wrapped around Jeet’s ammo vest, Scab buried his face in his side, embarrassed to be seen like this. He should be stronger than this, he was a Champion. Sure he was the Champion of a wastelander and not a proper Imperator, but it was what he had and he was clinging to it desperately.

Jeet stroked the back of Scab’s head, fingers rasping against his stubble as he started to relax himself. Scab seemed to be back in the present, traumatized and confused, but at least he was able to see Jeet again and not in a full blown panic. Jeet was rehashing everything that led up to this and obviously something about carrying Scab upstairs had brought it on. Though he did that every night to save Scab the hassle of crawling up the staircase.

Shuddering in his arms, Scab was visibly shaken though he was trying to get ahold of himself. He was scared, and honestly so was Jeet. “You okay now?” Jeet’s voice was strangely soft, worried about Scab; as a person rather than a resource.

“Yeah. Think so.” Scab had smeared his face stripes and looked uncomfortable and disheveled. He ran his hands down across his own chest, fingers tracing the knotted raised scars along his torso where bloodlines had been attached when he’d been hung in the Organic’s shop. “Don’t… don’t tell Blas.”

“What? Oh.” Jeet sighed and held him close. “I won’t say anything.” He pet Scab’s injured shoulder, marveling at how he could be simultaneously prideful and sobbing uncontrollably just a few moments before. Scab’s moodswings were going to give Jeet whiplash one day.

Nuzzling into his Imperator’s arms, Scab made some happy snuffling sounds; breathing in Jeet’s scent. He clung to him as Jeet stood, carrying him out of the storeroom and to the little alcove he shared with Blas. Settling back on the mattress quietly, he remained still while Jeet cleaned and bandaged the tear in his shoulder, neither of them wanting to talk about it.

It was the middle of the day but Jeet settled down next to Scab, lounging against the wall and letting Scab press against him. The War Boy seemed unwilling to let go of him, as if Jeet was the only thing keeping him in the present.

“What are you guys doing?” Blas climbed into the room, kneeling next to Scab and running his fingers along the fabric tied to his shoulder.

“This idiot War Boy got hurt. A drill fell on him.” Jeet ignored Scab’s look of thanks as Blas sat next to them and investigated the injury.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine now.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around Blas dragging him against his side with none of his usual groping tendancies.

Even so Blas let out a squeak of surprise before leaning against Scab. “You’re freezing.” Starting to embark on his personal mission to be Scab’s heater he stretched out, laying nearly on top of the War Boy in an effort to warm him up. At the bottom of the pile, Jeet was getting smushed into the corner where the wall met the floor.

He really should have gotten up. He had stuff to do; supplies to inventory, orders to give, a stronghold to run. But Scab was still freaked out, his fingers digging into Jeet’s side, eyes darting around as if trying to memorize every detail of the room. Jeet softly rubbed Scab’s arm, willing to stay next to him and keep him stable. For a while anyway.

Sometimes, resources needed to be provided for.


End file.
